In a Voice Like a Prayer (Peter, Casual)

It was two AM. Normal people would be at home sleeping, but he’d never thought of himself as normal. Normally, in his realm of normal, he would be sleeping by this point. However, the past three or four nights had been less than satisfying in the sleep department. He had a lot on his mind.

He figured if he wasn’t sleeping, he might as well use the time to his advantage. That was how he’d ended up in Manhattan, Baze tugging at his leash, rearing to go, no matter what time of day it was. Central park at night was the best time to take him. Letting him off leash to run always managed to bring his energy level down, and if his energy level was down, the dog would let him be awake with everything on his mind without bugging him. So he crouched down and unclipped his leash, letting the dog go. Baze barked happily, running around like he owned the park.

The whole act of the playful puppy made him grin. The dog was eight years old and he could still put the younger dogs to shame. Peter strolled along, letting the dog pick the direction. As always, he wasn’t worried. If anyone came across the dog, they’d run in the opposite direction. And if anyone came across him, well, Baze owed him enough to come and save him from whatever. However, the worst they’d ever run into was a couple squirrels, some quiet walkers, and Ling Ling. That had been out of the norm, but she was by no way threatening to him. Just another wandering soul tying to make sense of life.

Making sense of life...that was a laugh. There was no making sense of anything. Life happened and you went with it because there was nothing else that you could do. People lived, people died...and kids were shot before they even had a chance to.

Baze came running back, stick in mouth, body vibrating with excitement. He dropped the stick on Peter’s foot, bringing his attention back where it should have been. He picked it up and hefted it forward, watching as the dog took off like a shot after it. He still had a good left arm when it came to throwing things, so it took the dog a minute to bring it back. Again, it was dropped on his foot. This time, he threw it towards where the path branched, missing the path and hearing the stick hit the brush. Baze trotted right in after it. Peter kept walking, waiting for the dog. When it was more than a minute, Peter frowned.

“Baze!” He called, letting a sharp whistle follow.

He heard barking, following the path until he could see a flash of white. He was not in the mood to play hide and seek.

“Bazin!” Peter snapped, finally seeing the dog near an offshoot playground.

Baze turned at the tone in his voice. Generally, Peter liked to think he was a nice guy, but he was still the master, and Baze was the dog. He knew better than to not come when he was called, and Peter was within his rights to use that tone. Baze finally met him part way, belly close to the ground in supplication. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, making the dog sweat. He knew better.

After a pitiful whine from the dog, Peter knelt down so they were on the same level, cupping the dog’s cheeks so he could look him in the eye. “Now, what were you doing, mutt?”

Baze carefully got to his feet, rubbing his side along Peter’s bent knees, earning a scratch behind the ears before he started trotting towards the playground. Peter glanced up, catching sight of someone on the swings. He paused for a moment, squinting in the poor light before he recognized the person. No wonder Baze hadn't listened.

“Ling Ling?” he asked, coming closer so he could see her better. "You sure get around this park."